


View of the Garden

by Shellah (trinaest)



Category: Smallville
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-10
Updated: 2003-03-10
Packaged: 2017-10-14 13:17:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/149590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trinaest/pseuds/Shellah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Notes: You might remember that I posted a little Lex & Lillian piece last week, In the Garden. When Caro and I were discussing that one, we talked about the relative merits of telling it from Lex's POV vs. Lillian's (mostly because I had an unfortunate POV switch that had to be fixed *g*). I decided to go with Lillian's, but then I kept wondering ... how different would it be if I went the other way? So, mostly as an exercise for myself, I decided to do it. So this is essentially the same story, only this time it's Lex's POV. And thanks once again to Caro for audiencing and giving me great suggestions. *hugs*</p>
    </blockquote>





	View of the Garden

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: You might remember that I posted a little Lex & Lillian piece last week, In the Garden. When Caro and I were discussing that one, we talked about the relative merits of telling it from Lex's POV vs. Lillian's (mostly because I had an unfortunate POV switch that had to be fixed *g*). I decided to go with Lillian's, but then I kept wondering ... how different would it be if I went the other way? So, mostly as an exercise for myself, I decided to do it. So this is essentially the same story, only this time it's Lex's POV. And thanks once again to Caro for audiencing and giving me great suggestions. *hugs*

It was a beautiful early spring afternoon. The sun was shining, the sky was blue with just a few fluffy white clouds, and there was a light breeze blowing the leaves on the trees. Lex sat at his desk, staring through the stained glass windows at gardeners trimming and tending to the roses.

~~ @ ~~

"Lex!" The four-year old boy heard her voice call out for him from the other side of the garden. He had been walking among the rosebushes with his face turned toward the sun and his arms outstretched, heedless of his surroundings. "Alexander, please be careful. Remember, these roses have thorns."

He turned to watch his mother move toward him. With her bright red hair and cheerful smile, he thought she looked like the sunshine felt: warm, comforting, loving. Safe.

As she reached his side, she held out a newly-trimmed rose for his inspection. He held it gingerly in one hand, leaning close to enjoy the perfume. He lifted his head and looked into her clear, gentle eyes. "Do you think they hurt?"

"They can hurt, but if you're careful they won't. Here, touch this thorn, but be very gentle." She guided his hand, just barely touching his finger to the thorn.

He winced just a little and pulled his hand back. "That's sharp. I think they do hurt."

"Only if you aren't careful, Lex. Let's take the flowers inside now, darling." She held out her free hand toward him, the other arm overflowing with fresh-cut roses for the vases in the house.

Lex looked adoringly up at his mother, whose hair shined in the sunlight like his own. He took her hand and followed her inside.

~~ @ ~~

Oblivious to the rest of the world, Lex ran through the garden. He was six now and was enjoying the sunshine and the rare opportunity to run and play without an asthma attack. He eventually grew tired—and a little breathless—from running, so he moved to his mother's side. "Can I help?"

"Of course you can, Alexander. Here, hold this basket and you can help me choose the flowers to bring into the house." They worked quietly together, Lex pointing out flowers to cut and then gently laying them in the basket when his mother handed them to him. When the basket was full, she took it from Lex and they strolled into the house together hand in hand, chatting about sunshine and roses and running.

~~ @ ~~

When he was nine, there was a meteor shower. It took both his hair and his asthma. It resulted in an extended stay in the hospital, endless rounds of doctors and tests. Finally, he was allowed to go home and recuperate. The next spring, he went out to the garden with his mother, like every spring before. She said he should come out and enjoy the sunshine, even if he needed to rest. To please her, he agreed, although he was disappointed that he wouldn't be able to help.

So he watched her from a bench, wrapped in a blanket in the warm spring sun. He remembered previous years, running and playing—when the asthma allowed—while his mother worked. Helping her cut the roses and carry them to the house. Staying by her side as she moved steadily through the garden. Today, he could only sit and watch.

He thought about the previous spring visits to the rose garden and the months since the meteor shower. He thought about his stay in the hospital, the only bright parts of which were his mother's visits. When his dad came to visit, he hardly looked at Lex. Lex thought his father must be ashamed of him, but he didn't know how to please him. If he could force the hair to grow back, he would.

Whenever his mother turned to look at him, he roused himself from his memories to smile at her and hoped he was fooling her. When it was time to go in, he stood up, kissed her on the cheek, and walked into the house with her, arm in arm.

~~ @ ~~

At age thirteen, Lex once again accompanied his mother into the garden. He gathered the roses for her, doing all the lifting and carrying, while she moved slowly from plant to plant, trimming carefully and considerately. When she paused to rest, he studied her closely, making sure she didn't tire herself out. While she worked, he thought about the useless hours he'd spent researching her condition, looking for the slightest thread of hope.

As they worked, they chatted about school, the garden, inconsequential things. He was tense, trying not to bring up anything troubling. He didn't always have an easy time at school. In spite of his calm, self-assured manner, he was still too small and was often a target of older, larger boys. And he had other worries on his mind, too.

He knew that one day soon—probably much sooner than he was ready for—his mother would be leaving him. Leaving him alone with his dad. She had already given him a watch to help him remember her. As if he could ever forget.

Finally, he revealed, "Dad is talking about sending me to boarding school."

"I see. How do you feel about that, Alexander?"

Before he could reply, he was stuck by a thorn as he reached to take a rose from his mother. The familiarity of the garden and the routine had made him somewhat careless.

"Ouch!" He gingerly sucked on the wound.

His mother smiled at him, looking thoughtful. "I thought you learned about roses and thorns when you were just a little boy, Alexander."

"I did. I just...got careless. Forgot to pay attention to the thorns."

"Ahh. Well, you know, Lex, a rose is a very beautiful thing. But you must always remember the danger that goes along with that beauty and take care to protect yourself. I love my flowers." She paused, raising an eyebrow and looking directly into Lex's eyes to emphasize her point. "All of them. There are dangers that make them hard to get close to, but there is also beauty. They are worth making that extra effort for."

Lex stopped to consider her words. He thought about himself, his father. His mother, who loved both of them. Who thought they were both worth making an effort to love. He wasn't so sure about that, but if his mother thought so...maybe. So he said, simply, "I understand, Mom."

When they finished their work, Lex held his arm out for his mother. She leaned heavily on it as they made their way slowly into the house.

~~ @ ~~

The following year, he watched from the windows as the gardeners trimmed and cared for his mother's roses, absently circling the face of his watch with a finger.

~~ @ ~~

Sighing wistfully, Lex turned from the windows and the memories, and got back to work.

(end)


End file.
